


like real people do

by mollivanders



Series: second chances [2]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016), Star Wars - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon Universe, F/M, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Spy!Fake Marrieds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-05
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-09-22 04:03:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9582821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mollivanders/pseuds/mollivanders
Summary: He’s still breathing heavily from the battle, his uniform no longer neatly pressed, and she knows she must look much the same. A sudden, overwhelming desire hits her as she takes him in, considering their options. Their trouble is they don’t look innocent by any means, and all exits are likely blocked by now, making it hard to talk or fight their way out of this.From the corner of her eye, she spies a dark conference room.“I have an idea,” she says, mind whirling as she steps towards the room. “We need a reason to be here like this.” He follows close behind her and she can practically feel the tension washing over him. In contrast, the plan forming in her mind has provided her with a calm clarity. He closes the door behind them before she props it ajar.They need to be caught.





	

**Author's Note:**

> [cover me, I'll cover you](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9510959) was originally supposed to be a standalone piece, but then this idea came to me and I hand wrote a big chunk of this while flying across the country. This can still be read alone but fits into the same setting. Jyn and Cassian continue to have trouble dealing with emotions in the middle of the rebellion, but sometimes the mission requirements help them along.
> 
> Title comes from Hozier's _like real people do_ which I listened to on repeat for most of this. Thanks, buddy.

The hum of the ship’s engines fills Jyn’s mind as she slips back to the 'fresher. She needs to prepare for the mission ahead, mentally and otherwise. It’s the third time she and Cassian have been sent out on a mission together since Scarif, and they’re finally starting to find their rhythm. She knows the beat of his footsteps and he trusts her instincts, and she’s starting to think that maybe Draven doesn’t completely distrust her anymore.

The mission ahead, however, has its own challenges.

There was little he could do to stop them from being paired together, though. It was volunteer only, given the blockade and heavy Imperial presence on Mon Cala, and all the more important for it. An informant on Mon Cala had passed information to Admiral Ackbar that the local governor had captured many rebel Mon Calamari on the planet. The prisoners were to be shipped offworld to prison labor camps where they suffered far worse than other terran life forms. The list of prisoners, ship schedules, and destinations would be in the governor’s office. Although the governor was throwing an elite celebration that could provide access, no Mon Calamari could access the palace to find the list and plan an intercept in time.

Jyn and Cassian’s presence, however, would attract no attention at all. They could access the gala with Cassian’s old Imperial credentials, and it was easy enough to invent an identity for her as an officer’s wife, but once they were inside, they were on their own.

Still, she’s had worse jobs.

(All her life, she has no known no rest, no respite in the Rebellion, but with Cassian, she worries less. She knows who has her back, and the home that will be waiting for her.

Beyond that – well.)

As their stolen shuttle drops out of hyperspace and approaches the blockade around Mon Cala, Jyn steps out of the 'fresher in her formal gown. Tugging uncomfortably at the fabric, she spies Cassian adjusting the uniform pants on his hips. She leans against the ship’s bulkhead for a moment, watching him quietly, until his fingers start on the jacket buttons and she shifts noticeably.

He looks up in time to catch her and grins. “You going to be okay in that dress?” he asks and she sighs with annoyance, tugging at the fabric. “I better be,” she says, pulling up the black skirt to strap her vibroblade sheath against her thigh. “I just hope we don’t have to run down any stairs.” She catches him staring in turn and he awkwardly clears his throat.

“We should be fine,” he says before shaking away from his thoughts. “Besides,” he says conspiratorially, stepping closer, “you’re too short to be an officer.”

(She wonders if he notices how close he is to her, so close she catches the scent of his aftershave, so close he might hear the way her heart pounds in her chest.)

“You must be this tall,” she quips, focusing her gaze on him, “to join the Empire.” He stares at her so intensely that she’s sure he’s going to say something else, something more. She’s still learning his moods, understanding his tells, and her nerves tighten. The moment stretches out uncomfortably before K2 provides a welcome interruption.

“We are preparing to land,” the droid calls from the cockpit. “Are you ready to proceed with the mission?” The surly note reveals the droid’s dissatisfaction at being left behind on the ship. “I’ll be standing by for air support if you need it, Cassian.”

“Don’t sound so hopeful,” Cassian says. “If we need air support, we’re probably not getting out of there.”

“I’ll be waiting,” K2 says anyway, but Jyn’s mind is already on the task ahead as the ship settles and the ship’s ramp opens to Mon Cala.

+

After clearing security, with Cassian permitted an officer’s weapon, Jyn and Cassian are shuffled onto a ferry with dozens of other guests. The ferry carries them across sparkling blue waters where far below she can see the lush sea farms where Mon Calamari once worked as owners instead of tenants. Their target, however, lies not below, but above them.

The governor’s residence is a small villa, an artificial island floating in a ring of tight Imperial security. She takes in the height and breadth of the place, Saw’s old lessons coming to mind. The gala is billed as the kind of high society event her mother used to tell her stories about, full of glittering lights and more wealth than a small child could possibly imagine.

(She thinks the Mon Cala seascape must put the lights of Coruscant to shame, even this far from the center of the galaxy.)

Cassian is steady on her arm and she follows his lead as they mingle with other guests. With so many Imperial officers from across the galaxy who knew each other only by reputation, Rebel Intelligence was confident that Jyn and Cassian would not be obvious outsiders. They wander the fringes of the ferry, preparing to dock, and Jyn runs over mission details once more in her mind. She has to hold onto Cassian’s arm to cross the distance between the ferry and the platform, her gown swirling at her feet, and she shoots him a knowing look.

_I told you so._

The governor’s palace stretches ahead of them and she senses Cassian casing the place, a practiced spy. _Know your exits out_ , Saw had told her, _but know their ways in too._ The size of the palace is modest for a governor but still large enough to dominate the seascape. Her breaths come shorter, anger rising in her throat, and her grip on Cassian’s arm tightens in outrage.

“Steady,” he whispers softly, his expression casual and unreadable. “We just need to get past the gates.” He pauses, looking down at her before speaking at a normal volume. “I’m looking forward to this evening, after all.”

She counts her breaths, forcing the mask of an Imperial wife back in place with a stray thought.

(Lyra, dressed in dark green, coming home with her father.)

“So am I, darling,” she answers, the endearment falling from her lips unexpectedly. She straightens her shoulders and tries to cast the air of the political elite, a woman safe from every worry Jyn has ever known. It’s not easy, but she must pull it off because she catches the hint of a smile at Cassian’s lips, and suddenly her stomach flips.

( _Later_ , she thinks. She’ll deal with that later.)

“I expected as much,” he says as they enter the palace, the press of the crowd closing in on them. Normally, she thinks he’d be all tension in a crowd this size, but instead his shoulders are relaxed, his voice casual. He has, she concedes, been doing this a long time.

They pass through an alcove whose walls stretch high to the ceiling above them, and move with the other guests up a wide set of stairs and down a long hallway. This part of the palace is fossilized coral, a faint pink hue still humming from the walls, but as they enter the ballroom the walls shift to Imperial chrome and black, the white floor stretching to a raised dais where the governor will speak later.

(She wonders, briefly, who lived here before.)

The ballroom is already filled with guests, and they two move to a back corner in wordless sync. “So far, so good,” she says thoughtfully, scanning the crowd, as Cassian swipes two flutes of blue Alderaanian wine from a passing server. The alcohol shimmers in the glass and she takes a hard swallow, the taste bitter on her tongue.

“We’ll need a security chip to get upstairs,” Cassian says quietly, and once again she is acutely aware of how close he is to her and how unfair it is that he doesn’t seem to notice the way she does. “Any ideas?”

For the first time this evening, she wishes droids weren’t banned from the gathering. “That one, over there,” she says, gesturing with her wine glass to a puffed-up looking young corporal. He is wearing the insignia of the governor’s personal staff. “Looks freshly promoted and full of himself.” She looks up at Cassian and a smile flutters at her mouth. “A prime candidate for a dressing down.”

She follows at an easy distance from Cassian’s approach, sipping carefully at her wine as she picks up snippets of intel from the crowd. Cheerful military tunes pump through hidden speakers as dance partners move in drab clusters.

The new officer is young, inflated with self-importance and pride at being included in this lavish event. He is completely unprepared for Cassian who freezes mid-step next to him, annoyed expression already in place.

“What are you doing?” Cassian asks with thinly veiled contempt. “You are part of the governor’s security. You shouldn’t be drinking here.” The younger man’s eyes open in alarm and he swallows his last sip, straightening his back. “Colonel, sir,” he says, looking straight ahead in perfect military fashion, “the governor gave us special permission to attend this event, sir.”

As she moves closer, she stifles a laugh at Cassian’s scoff. “You do realize,” he says, voice dripping with disdain, “that an invitation does not mean you are a _guest_. You do _realize_ ,” he sneers, “that attempts on the governor’s life can happen at any time and that it is your duty to protect him? How will you do that if you are _drinking_? I should report you right now.” The young officer has gone pale by the time Jyn slides next to Cassian and interrupts them.

“Darling, there you are,” she says, coming around the officer and picking his security chip from his pocket. “Ambassador Roi wanted to meet you.” She gives the officer a disinterested glance and links her arm around Cassian’s. “This one,” she adds, “isn’t worth your time.” Cassian pauses, selling the act, before leaning in with a final admonition. “You’d better hope,” he says, “nothing happens tonight, or I will _personally_ report you.”

She leads him away to a throng of guests at the back of the hall and watches the corporal slump with relief as they leave him. “Nicely done,” he says, and she cannot suppress the shiver that runs through her. The wine must be stronger than she realized. “Do we know an Ambassador Roi?”

“No,” she says. “But he’s probably an ass.”

“Probably,” he agrees, and leads the way to a turbolift.

The hapless officer’s security chip gives them direct access to the governor’s office on the top floor. Instead of looking at Cassian, she looks out at the shimmering waves and tries to clear her head of the alcohol and she’s not sure what else.

+

The turbolift opens to the governor’s office, a reception area leading to two heavy wooden doors at the back. There is little security this far up, and no watchful cameras that she can see. Inside the office, however, a row of security holovids play footage from across the palace, including the gala down below. Full length blasterproof windows stretch around the room and her eyes are drawn to the setting sun over the oceans.

Cassian sits at the desk, pulling up to the governor’s computer. “Can you get into that?” she asks, standing guard at the door and wishing once more that droids were not barred from this event. He inserts a data chip in the datapad and she can see a script of code start running. “Of course,” he says confidently. “But K2 insisted on helping.”  
It takes a while for the code to work, and by the time Cassian locates the files they came for, the corporal has discovered the theft of his security chip. “Time to move,” she says, her back to Cassian, and hears him swear softly.

“One moment,” he says, and she hears him tapping hurriedly at the datapad. “I need to transfer these files to the datacard first.”

“We don’t have a moment,” she says as the corporal anxiously speaks into his comm. Stormtroopers are doubtless on their way to secure the palace. “Got it,” he answers, pocketing the datacard and crossing the room in three quick strides. “I shut down the security holovids too. Let’s go.”

She races back to the turbolift with him, step for step, but the turbolift is already nonresponsive. “Stairs,” they say at the same time, turning at the same time and running like hell. She takes a moment to pull out her vibroblade, the light fabric of her dress swirling around her ankles.

 _Kriffing_ formalwear.

+

They make it three floors before Cassian’s sharp ears catch the sound of stormtroopers ascending from below them. He pulls her out of the stairwell and onto an office floor, the home of mid-level bureaucrats. Her flat shoes slip across the floor as they race down the hall, looking for another exit, when they run straight into another stormtrooper patrol.

The collision is fast, dirty, and bad. Jyn’s momentum slams her straight into a lead stormtrooper, instinct helping her vibroblade find its way between his armor plates as Cassian holds his ground and fires at them over her head. Her world collapses to the hard seconds of the fight, ducking nimbly out a trooper’s and sinking her blade between weak armor joints in quick, short strokes. Part of the patrol breaks off, retreating, and she gives ground in turn. Cassian grabs her arm to propel her with him, taking one last shot at them over his shoulder as they run.

“Jam their comms,” she gasps, trying to catch her breath. Cassian nods sharply, peering around a corner for more patrols as he passes her the short range jammer. “Clear,” he says, voice clipped, and she follows close at his side, watching his back. They skid down hall and after hall that all look the same until they find another stairwell and fly down it.

“Any idea where we are?” she asks, trying to get her bearings, and Cassian shakes his head. “We must be close to the ballroom,” he says, “but we got pretty turned around up there. No idea what it’s like down there either.”

He’s still breathing heavily from the battle, his uniform no longer neatly pressed, and she knows she must look much the same. A sudden, overwhelming desire hits her as she takes him in, considering their options. Their trouble is they don’t look innocent by any means, and all exits are likely blocked by now, making it hard to talk or fight their way out of this.

From the corner of her eye, she spies a dark conference room.

“I have an idea,” she says, mind whirling as she steps towards the room. “We need a reason to be here like this.” He follows close behind her and she can practically feel the tension washing over him. In contrast, the plan forming in her mind has provided her with a calm clarity. He closes the door behind them before she props it ajar.

They need to be caught.

“What do you have in mind?” he asks and she swallows hard, suddenly nervous for a different reason. Instead of answering with words, she hoists herself on the table and slides back until her knees hit the edge. As he steps closer, she impulsively brushes his hair back into place. Her heart skips a beat when he leans into her touch, his full focus trained on her.

(In another life, maybe. Another life, another chance.)

“We still have our cover,” she says, lifting her face to him, and even over her anxious breaths, she can hear another stormtrooper patrol approaching. “We can have a reason to be here.” He rests his hands on her knees and she reaches for his collar to pull him closer. “Okay?” she asks, quiet as a Mandalorian mouse.

After a long, painful silence, he exhales heavily and kisses her.

(He beats the stormtroopers by mere seconds.)

Even though their lives are on the line, and even though she’s trying to convince herself that this will get them out alive, she feels herself slipping into the kiss as Cassian deepens it. When his mouth opens against her own, bright stars explode behind her eyes. She feels his hands sliding up her thighs and pulls him closer, an unexpected fierceness edging the kiss. Dizzy and tipping backwards, she links her ankles around his waist and feels a groan escape him and travel inside her. From far away, an ancient hunger is flaming alive and clouding her mind.

( _This_ , she thinks belatedly, _seemed like a much safer idea beforehand_.)

It ends far too quickly as the stormtroopers burst into the room and come up short at the pair of them. Cassian breaks away, his breath escaping in short pants, and he can’t seem to stop looking at her until the squad leader finally speaks. “What’s going on here? Nobody is supposed to be on this level.”

Cassian turns, displaying his rank, and the squad leader takes a step back. He runs a finger through his hair as Jyn presses her legs together and grips the edge of the table, her head still spinning. If they get out of this alive, she’s going to kick herself to Corellia for this.

“My wife and I, uh,” Cassian pauses, and she spots the consummate liar she first met under the ruffled exterior. “Got lost looking for the ‘fresher.” She is unsure how much is real, how much is practiced survival. Either way, a heavy pause fills the room until the squad leader speaks again.

“It’s one floor down, sir. I’ll have someone escort you.”

Jyn slips off the table, straightening her dress, and takes Cassian’s hand as they walk back to the ballroom on shaky legs. They’ll still need to make a quick exit in case the corporal has realized their role in the theft, but for now, it looks like they’ll live.

As Cassian squeezes her hand comfortingly, she wonders how many chances they have left.

+

They’d slipped out of the ballroom, requesting an early departure back to their shuttle, and K2 had taken it their disheveled appearance with as much grace as the droid was capable of.

That is, absolutely none.

“We got it,” Cassian says sharply, brushing past the droid. “But we need to get out of here right now.”

“I said there would be problems,” K2 says as Cassian begins the launch sequence. He fixes an irritated scowl on the droid and she remembers, briefly, what it was like to be on the receiving end of that look. She escapes back to the 'fresher, seeking a small comforting space. By the time she’s changed out of her gown, her breaths are even and the flush has faded from her cheeks.

(The memory lingers.)

When they are within hailing distance of Hoth, he walks back to the passenger bay and gauges her body language before cautiously sitting next to her. “We’re almost there,” he says in a low tone, though K2 can still probably hear every word they say. Jyn nods and finishes cleaning her blaster – _his_ blaster that he’s never getting back – and holsters it. She risks a look at him and hopes everything is not ruined.

“Back there,” she begins to say, her voice uncertain, before reassurance spreads across his face. “That was quick thinking back on Mon Cala,” he says, and she is befuddled at the strange mix of emotions his proximity elicits. She fights the urge to disappear, to vanish, and nods as though everything is fine.

“It seemed like it would work at the time,” she says and one of those soft smiles that makes her want to stay cross between them.

“It did,” he says. “Probably saved our lives.” Hesitantly, he reaches for her hand, but she does not pull away, inaction dominating her landscape. His thumb runs a soothing pattern against her skin and she exhales heavily. “Thank you,” he adds, and she closes her eyes with a smile. “You’re welcome,” she says, wanting to say something more, but she’s been away for 37 hours, her body aches from the fight and his touch, and she can’t find the words.

Suddenly she feels the soft brush of his lips at the corner of her mouth, the friendly ghost of an earlier kiss, and her eyes fly open as he pulls away. She watches him move back to the cockpit, lost for words but an old, practiced instinct is whispering to her.

( _Run. Run. Run._ )

Instead, her fingers brush against her mouth and then fall as though she’s been stung when K2 announces the drop out of hyperspace.

(Maybe, she thinks, _later_ will come sooner than she thought.)

_Finis_

**Author's Note:**

> I am [ladytharen](http://ladytharen.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr if you want to come say hi!


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